Framing Spring
by lucifeu
Summary: It's finally beginning to warm up outside, and Castiel wants nothing more than for Dean to take a break from his research; and maybe go on a walk with him.


Dean wasn't necessarily one to care about the weather. He knew that what was going on around him was much more important: who was the shapeshifter disguised as this time, were those blackouts from storms or demons, how was he supposed kill this son of a bitch? Stuff like that. But during the winter, he noticed that Cas didn't seem himself at all. Oftentimes he would sit on the bunker's couch, curled up in a ball and wearing three too many sweaters. Whenever he went outside, he would shiver and eye the snow distastefully. Dean thought that he was just adjusting to the human body; cold was something entirely new to him, after all. But then his eyes lost their cobalt sparkle, his shoulders lost their strong posture, and Cas didn't smile nearly as often as he should have.

"You okay, buddy?" Dean asked carefully on one especially cold night. Castiel had carved out his own little corner of the bunker, complete with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a mug of tomato soup in his hands. Cas replied at first with a simple sigh and a sip of his soup.

"Winter really is a desolate season," he said, voice heavy with sadness.

So Dean, being so passive about the weather, didn't really notice when the temperature tipped upwards and the first few birds started chirping outside. He didn't care as much about the brown grass peeking out from under patches of snow as he did about the research he had to do. He did notice, though, when Cas, who had regained his angel powers a while back, pulled up a chair to the table and sat down.

"Hey," Dean said absently. He was engrossed in an article written by the Men of Letters: _The Mark, _it read, _is not all-powerful as much as it is manipulative._ He rubbed his eyes and groaned. The words ran through his head like water through a net – he could read all he wanted, but it wasn't making any sense. Not because of the wording or anything. It was just kind of hard to concentrate when you had eyes burning into your skull. Especially when they were eyes that you were sort of attached to. "What is it, Cas?"

"Dean," Castiel said, along with a certain sigh that Dean recognized meant he wanted something. "Have you noticed that it's getting nicer outside?" Cas folded his fingers together on the table, an expectant smile lingering on his face.

"No," Dean lifted an eyebrow curiously. "The weather's the last thing I'm worried about. There are bigger problems. For instance-" Dean spun the book around on the table and pushed it towards the fallen angel. "Do you get what they mean by this? _The Mark is not all-powerful as much as it is manipulative._" Cas licked his lips and pressed them together. Furtively, he glanced down at the book and back up to Dean.

"Dean, the snow is almost gone. People are walking around without winter coats on."

"And?" Dean shook his head before pointing to a new line. "This part's kind of weird too. It-"

Cas pulled the book away and snapped it shut, ignoring the offended expression Dean offered him. He turned back to the green-eyed hunter, smile worn but still there.

"You've been researching this Mark for weeks, Dean, and nothing good is coming out of it," Cas said. "You need to take a break."

"I can't afford a break," Dean said. He rolled his plaid sleeve up, revealing the Mark of Cain, etched into his skin like a burn. "I need to figure out what the hell this thing does, and how I can use it to kill that bitch Abaddon." Cas's heart grew heavy at Dean's words. With each passing minute, the bags under his eyes became more prominent and his voice became raspier. "Where's Sam?"

"He said he needed to catch up on sleep. Just a ten minute break. You have to stop, Dean," Cas pleaded, fearing another fit from Dean. After everything that he'd been through recently, it had become commonplace; Dean would work for days on end, refusing sleep and food until he either snapped or passed out on his bed.

"I'm never going to get any work done with you talking to me like this." Dean reached out to grab the book again, but Cas lifted it just out of reach.

"I'm not going to leave you alone until you rest."

Dean tried for the book again, but this time Castiel stood up and tossed the book on a shelf behind him.

"Fine," Dean smiled irritably, voice sarcastic and snarky. "How do you suppose I take a break?"

At this, Castiel averted his gaze and stared at the floor.

"Well," he said, "like I was saying, it's a lot nicer outside. It's warm and sunny and there's almost no snow-"

"You want to go outside?"

"Take a walk, maybe?" Cas shrugged, trying to ignore the blood he felt rushing into his cheeks. Dean's cold stare softened a bit. Was that what this was all about?

"If you just want to go outside, by all means go," Dean sighed, deflated. He leaned back into his chair. "I know you're happy it's warmer, so if taking a walk is what you want to do then you can do it."

"I-" Cas began, then stopped. Dean set his elbows on the table and propped his forehead on his hands. He took a single shaky breath, slow and deep.

"What the hell did I do?" he muttered, blinking at the Mark of Cain with such remorse that Cas felt it churn in his own stomach. Castiel was sure now; he would tell Dean.

"I wanted to take a walk with you. I don't just want to be outside, I'd rather just be with – I mean, being outside with you would be more -" Cas shut his mouth before he could say anything else stupid. He knew that his cheeks were pink. They had to be, he always blushed when he knew he was being an idiot. Dean barely lifted his eyes, but he still peeked at Castiel, a small detail that couldn't go unnoticed. "I'm sorry." Cas blinked a few times before licking his lips and turning around to leave. He was doing nothing but upset Dean.

"No, Cas, wait. I'm sorry," Dean called. Cas frowned and looked back at the hunter. "You're not doing anything wrong. I'm just being an idiot. As usual." Dean rubbed his temples before flashing Cas a weary look. "You're right, I probably do need to stop and take a breather. Still up for a walk?"

Castiel grinned delightedly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. He nodded before stopping to pull his trench coat off of a hanger on the wall, pulling his arms through the sleeves.

"Yes, I'm still up for it," Castiel said softly. "Are you?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." Dean ran a hand through his hair and ponied up another unsure smile. "Only ten minutes though, right?"

"Ten minutes," Castiel agreed. He extended his hand slightly, but pulled it back immediately. What was he doing? Dean was taking a walk with him, not engaging in a mating rite. Cas shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut a few times. He had to stop thinking like that.

"Your face is all red," Dean remarked, reaching his hand up to Castiel's forehead. He let it linger for a few moments, and Cas was certain that he held his breath the entire time. "Are you okay? Do you feel sick?"

"Not at all, Dean," Cas croaked. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, you're just a little hot."

Castiel blushed even more. He knew that Dean didn't mean it 'that way', but...

"Are we going?" Dean asked. He had stood up and walked over to the door, probably in the time that Castiel was lost in his head. _Stop thinking like that._

"Of course."

They stepped outside, Dean just blinking to adjust to the sudden light. Castiel, on the other hand, took a deep breath and flashed him a huge smile. The air smelled like rain and grass. It was rather cloudy,the screen of gray exactly the same as what winter held, but that didn't stop Cas. He turned around and, admittedly, almost gasped. The forest above the bunker's door had started growing leaves again. They were just buds at the moment, giving the illusion that emerald beads laced the spindly tree branches. Patches of green grass hid among the patchwork of roots. Dean couldn't help but let a small smirk play on his lips. Castiel looked ecstatic, and they hadn't even walked anywhere yet.

"You wanna walk through the forest?" Dean asked quietly. This was a moment that had to be preserved. Cas, with his half-mussed raven hair, turning around and around, looking at the growth of spring. His eyes were an electric blue shock, widening at the smallest of things. He turned to Dean and nodded frantically. If Dean could suppress time into a single picture, he was sure he would frame this one.

The two stepped up the small hill that led into the woods. It was shadowy and cooler than before, but birds twittered away happily. Castiel sighed and leaned against a tree. Truly serene and happy, he hadn't looked so relaxed since Christmas. Light wasn't as prominent in the woods. Whatever golden sunlight shone through the clouds was dimmed by the criss-crossing of tree branches.

"Dean, look in that tree," Cas pointed up into the network of branches, singling out a white and brown bird with a bright, vivid yellow stomach. He was a welcome splotch of color among the wood brush, large with a long and sharp beak.

"What is it?" Dean asked. He absentmindedly curled his arm around Cas's, grabbing his hand softly. He didn't even realized that he did it until Cas looked at him and let out a small, shaky breath. Dean blushed, about to let go, when Castiel squeezed his hand and laced their fingers together.

"It's a western meadowlark," Cas said slowly, never looking away from Dean's eyes. They were green, flecked with speckles of yellow and brown. How did that work? "The-the state bird of Kansas."

The bird began to sing, three crystal clear whistles tentatively mixing with lower chirps. Dean looked up at the meadowlark and smiled. The bird called out again, this time louder, before flying away.

"Strange," Cas muttered, "I wonder why it left."

"What, a bird can't choose where it wants to go?"

"I just think it might mean that-" Cas paused and peered through the branches, trying to get a glimpse of the sky. The gray was definitely darker. Just as he opened his mouth to tell Dean, a drop of rain fell onto his cheek.

Immediately, it began to pour. The rain was light, but there was a lot of it, and Dean didn't mean to yelp. He really didn't, he just didn't expect so much rain at once. But he did yelp, and Castiel did notice. So he pulled off his trench coat and held it above them like a canopy, offering Dean a small smile. Dean flushed pink. Raindrops fell onto the fabric and branches and dirt around them, creating a sound that was rather surreal. It was nothing compared to the smell. The rain sprinkled the ground and gave off an earthy, fresh aroma, whereas the rain itself already had a springy flavor. It mingled with the smell of Cas that hung on the trench coat, watermelon and cinnamon and _god_ Dean couldn't believe this was happening.

He helped lift the trench coat above them, allowing them to continue the hand-holding. Dean glanced down at Cas's rosy lips, licking his own habitually and parting them to speak. Between that moment and the next, Castiel had quickly leaned forward and kissed him. Dean hummed what was, at first, an expression of surprise. He soon melted into the kiss, hand moving from holding up the trench coat to Cas's neck. Castiel's lips were slightly chapped, enough to be noticeable but not unpleasant.

Castiel put his other hand over the one Dean placed on his neck. Dean's eyelashes tickled his cheeks. He pulled away slowly, blinking shyly at the ex-angel. There was a moment of silence between the two. Rain still pattered away happily on the coat.

"I love spring," Dean mumbled with a smile.

"Another ten minutes?" Cas asked with a grin.

"Definitely."


End file.
